Love Is the Stream

Love is the stream as it begins As spring, pouring from hills’ side, Floods in its pale path, winds under Sharp-cut banks, love tells In consonants its later song, flows Truest as all true love drives, Where time demands a time For singing, love revives and quells In promises beneath shade trees, So it slows, considering next moves, Wanders, affection without haste, Ages into river, gently, Believing in its calm to come, Tranquil, tranquil, free moving at idle Pace, not losing its identity, This love is ours: We are the sea.